Uhh What Just Happened?
by TheMysticWolf36
Summary: A spell turned Canada into a child! Whodunnit? For once, it's not England. Norway got drunk, and now Mattie's a kid. How will the nations deal with this turn of events? With maple syrup and chaos, of course. You think Canada's invisible? Not after this he's not.
1. Norwegians And Alcohol Do Not Mix

Chapter 1: Norwegians And Alcohol Do Not Mix

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Norway was drunk.

That's all you need to say to know that this was a bad situation. ... A very bad situation.

Why was it bad? Well, Norway was a very emotional drunk; whether he be happy, sad, excited, or angry, it was pure emotion. Because of this, he tended to do bad things, like... Well, you'll see.

Tonight, Norway was a sad drunk. That past day, the day before the start of the week long, semi-annual World Meeting, he had once again tried to get Iceland to call him Big Brother, but the boy wouldn't budge.

Result: Drunk Norway.

"What gives him the right to refuse to call me his big brother? The DNA test even said so!" He slurred. He was wobbling over his beer, somehow not falling out of his chair.

"Was I not good enough for him? I'm the one who raised him, spent the most time with him! Not Denmark, not Finland, _me_! Ungrateful brat," he muttered, beginning to get angry.

What was wrong with calling him Big Brother? _Nothing_, that's what. He was going to teach that boy a lesson. Well... He wasn't really a boy anymore, but-

"What if he was?" Norway whispered, a manic grin forming on his face.

What if he used magic to turn Iceland back into a three-year-old? And then, he would learn why he called him Big Brother in the first place!

Choosing this option (because somehow to him it seemed reasonable), he took another swig of beer and stumbled to his spell book on the other side of his hotel room.

If he cast a latent spell that would make Iceland a three-year-old at around ten or eleven tomorrow morning, he could "save him" and remind him why _he_ was his big brother, and nobody else.

Being drunk, Norway didn't account for Iceland's anger and embarrassment at being turned into a child, but that's a story for another time.

He started casting the spell, picturing his vict- I mean _brother_ in great detail.

Suddenly, while still chanting, he began to wonder if England would want to do this for America (Because he was was drunk, his mind was wandering. ... Did I mention he was drunk? Because he was very drunk.). With a start, he tried to refocus the image of Iceland, but couldn't before the spell was finished.

The most he could remember, before blacking out, was the image of America with violet eyes.

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**A/N:**

**Okay ladies and gentlemen, if you look to your left, you'll see a Mysti updating a story. This is a very rare thing to see so take pictures, don't let this moment go to waste.**

**Look, guys, I updated! YAY! And guess what? I already have the next seven chapters written! YAY!  
**

**And I know that it's short and that Norway's OOC, but it's supposed to be that way. The next chapter is longer, but still short. But after that they'll get long. YAY!  
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**Yes, Norway was very, very drunk. Like, anyone who wasn't a nation would get alcohol poisoning and keel over and die drunk. (I bet he stole the beer from Denmark, just because.) Since he's so stoic when he's sober, to me he seems like the kind of person where, when he's drunk, every emotion he feels is x100 with no holding back. YAY, FOR DRUNKEN EMOTIONAL NORWAYS! YAY!  
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**Sorry, I'm high on adrenaline right now (my dogs don't know the meaning of the word "walk", all they know is "run"), so you'll have to deal with my crazy ramblings.  
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**... I like cheese. XP  
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**Sorry, I just had to do that. Okay, bai!  
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**Reviewers get to help Norway force Iceland to call him Big Brother.  
**

**~Mysti**


	2. World Meeting Fail

Chapter 2: World Meeting Fail

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The World Meeting was running smoothly. France was trying to molest England, while the other was trying to strangle him, and America was being the "hero" and "saving" England. Japan was agreeing with everything that America said, Switzerland was threatening to beat people with his peace prize, and Austria was watching Prussia (try to) avoid Hungary's frying pan, while Germany was becoming increasingly red with anger, as Italy ranted about pasta (ve~). All was right with the world.

The only strange thing was that Norway seemed to have a hangover, and Denmark was trying to badger what had happened the night before out of him.

About two minutes later, Germany stood and yelled at everyone. Five minutes after that, he was so frustrated that he called for a ten minute break.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who you're talking about), France dragged England away before America could take him to McDonald's, so he turned to remaining nations in the room and yelled, "Okay ,who wants to go to Mickey D's with the Hero?"

He then gave his obnoxious- I mean _hero_ laugh, and looked around. This did not help Norway's pounding head.

Almost as if he had heard his cue, a little voice asked, "Who?"

America spun wildly, searching for the speaker, and eventually honed in on his brother, Canada. "Mattie, hey, bro! You wanna go to the best restaurant in the world with me?" The duo was out the door before he could say "Maple!"

Back in the meeting room, Denmark was still asking (bothering) Norway about what had happened on his date with booze.

"Did you break something? C'mon Norge, gimme something to work with here. Ooh! Did you get angry and throw a chair at the wall? 'Cuz that'd be so awesome! Can we go back to your room later to see the remains? I mean, it'd be even cool if something else is broken too, and..."

Norway was trying very hard to tune out the conversation (one-sided rant), partly to get some peace and quiet, and partly to remember what had happened , because he really couldn't remember. He knew that he had done something, he just didn't know _what_. All he remembered was the color violet, and something about eleven o'clock in the morning. Yeah, it didn't make sense to him either.

Ten minutes went by rather quickly, and soon everyone was ready and in their seats. Everyone except America and... uh... What was his name again? Well, what ever, everyone except America and that other guy.

While everyone was waiting, Denmark continued, "Did you start a fire? Or did you cast a spell while-" A spell! There _had_ been a spell involved, hadn't there?

Norway tried to remember exactly what happened. He had tried to cast a spell on Iceland, gotten distracted, and ended up thinking of America with violet eyes. But America didn't have violet eyes, so who-?

Right at that moment, a woman's scream was heard just outside the door. Norway quickly glanced at his watch: Eleven AM, on the dot. Suddenly, he remembered what kind of spell he had cast, and he had a pretty good guess about who had received it. There was only one thought going through Norway's mind as he and the other countries ran outside to see what was going on:

_DRITT!_

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__**Hey, look guys! Another update! And it's not even on time, it's _early_! GASP! I was unaware that this was possible! IT'S AMAZING! O.o**

**Did I write Denmark and Norway okay? It was my first time writing either of them, so... Yep.  
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**Translations:  
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**Dritt - shit (Norwegian)  
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**OK, well I have to go, but updates will be weekly (I hope). See you guys next week! BYE-BYE!  
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**Reviewers get to help Denmark (try) to make Norway put a quarter in the swear jar.  
**

**~Mysti  
**


	3. Whatsisname's A Whatnow?

**JustMakeLeftTurns : He is, but not until quite a bit later. And for your other question, well, let's just say, I'm gonna need a _good_ Old Norse translator.**** And, also, thank you. Questions make me happy.  
**

**Very happy actually. Happy enough to make me update faster? I don't know, but it's always good to try *hinthint, nugdenudge*. ;)**

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Chapter 3: Whatshisname's A What now?!

All of the nations ran outside, either curious or worried. When they got out, the first thing thing they saw was America... With a hand on his chest... Hyperventilating. Everyone stared as the man tried to catch his breath. The first one to react was England.

"What happened out here? We heard a woman screaming, or," an impish grin formed on his face. "Was that just you?"

England cracked up, many other nations following, most of them happy at having something to laugh at America about.

Said American turned to them, eyes wide with confusion, worry, and a bit of fear. "G-guys! You gotta help me! I don't know what happened! One second we were walking towards the door, and then there was this flash of smoke, and then Mattie was gone, and I looked around and didn't see him. B-but then I looked down, and..."

Another bout of laughter (yes, the creepy French one) caused the frantic man to trail off as the Frenchman tried to speak. "Oh, _Amérique_! You are speaking more gibberish zan _Angleterre_ during one of 'iz episodes ("HEY!")!" The man paused for another peal of laughter.

"I didn't know zat your voice could even _sink_ about reaching zat octave!"

This time, the man's laughter was cut short when a little voice was heard. "_Papa_? Is- Is that you?"

More than one person gasped, but no one so loud as France.

"Matthieu? _Mon fils_? Where are you _cher_?"

"D-down here, _Papa_," the voice said.

The Frenchman (ands others) looked down, and were surprised to find a young boy, of about three-years-old, sitting in a pile of clothing, wearing a tan coat an shirt that had fallen to his waist, with a polar bear at his side, violet eyes wide with confusion.

"Matthieu! It'z really you! What happened?!"

As the man reached down to pluck the boy from the pile of clothes, he scooted away blushing slightly.

"_N-non, Papa! Ne pas me chercher_!"

France stopped and looked at the boy, concerned. "Why, is somesing wrong, _mon petit_?"

Little Canada blushed even more. "W-well, I-I shrunk quite a bit, s-so... um..." His voice became gradually smaller and smaller, and his face was practically the shade of a tomato (Spain couldn't help but grin at he sight).

"Myclotheswilljustfalloff."

The boy looked down in shame, even though he had no control over the situation. France's worried look became a fond smile as his son's shyness became apparent. He pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around the child, easily listing him up.

Matthew clung to his father's shirt, eyes shut tight. Francis looked at he man turned child. "You are not hurt, are you, Matthieu?"

The boy opened his eyes and loosened his grip, seemingly shaking off a sudden feeling. Of what? They didn't know. He looked up at Francis, smiling reassuringly. "_Non, Papa_, I'm fine. It's just been a _really_ long time since I've been picked up.

He chuckled, but with his voice at its current octave it sounded almost like a giggle, making some of the girls (and Italy) coo, making himself blush even more.

While all of this was going on, England was looking around, trying to figure out what had happened. He looked in Romania's direction to see if he had any ideas, but his friend was just as confused as he was. He looked over at Norway, and was not overly surprised.

The man was standing, face in hand, and groaning. Well that answered who cast the spell. He had noticed Norway's hangover earlier in the day, so that answered the question of why as well.

When he heard some of the women "aww"ing, he turned and saw Matthew in Francis' arms, blushing, embarrassed. Looking at the boy, his eyes softened considerably. He remembered when he had gotten the boy, after the Seven Years' War, from France. Then he had been physically five, but it was enough to bring back memories. He stepped over to the two.

"Hello, Matthew," the boy looked up surprised.

"Hi, Da-" he cut himself off, looking apologetic. "Sorry, Arthur, I forgot."

Arthur however, was rather touched; the boy had remembered what he preferred to be called for one thing, but that he still considered him his father, as well, made him quite pleased. "No, no," he said. "It's alright, you may call me that."

The child looked shocked. "Really?"

A chuckle. "Yes, really."

"Okay, thanks, Dad!" Matthew grinned, and Arthur couldn't help but follow suit.

"Matthew?" The boy hummed in response. "How much do you remember, exactly?"

"Everything, really. Actually, pretty much everything is the same except that I'm, well, three years old, and a foot and a half tall."

"See?! I told you people, I'm not crazy, but nope! You all decided to laugh at me. And anyway, how could _I_, the Hero, get to be as loony as Iggy, here?" America seemed to think that this was a very funny comment.

England, apparently, did not. "Look, git, just because you can't see them doesn't mean that they aren't real!"

"Oh, come _on_, Iggy. Keep talking like that and people will think that you're crazy. Oh, wait, you are!"

"Really, America, _I'm_ crazy? Who's the one denying that magic exists? Do you not _see_ Matthew?"

"I never said that _magic_ doesn't exist, but," he put on a very bad British accent. "Flying Mint Bunny, Uni the Unicorn, and Tinkerbell don't!"

"Are you kidding me? That's your problem?! And if magic exists, then why can't they? Although, in your burger hazed mind, I guess _nothing _would make sense!"

"How many times do I have to tell you that my cooking in fine?! And my food is bad? What about _your_ food? I wouldn't subject my worst enemy to that crap!"

"You wanker, my food is perfectly fine! Yours is the problem! Everything you Americans eat is pumped with bloody hormones!"

"_Oui, Amérique_, 'e iz right. Your food iz _dégoûtant_," France couldn't help but join in.

"Aw, c'mon, France! We both know that you're just siding with him to get into his pants."

"Well of course he is, America. But he's still right, your food is absolutely gross."

"Oh, why don't you go choke on a scone, Iggy."

"Why don't _you_ go choke on one of zose sings zat you dare call 'French fries'".

"Oh, those would be good right about now. Thanks, by the way."

"_Zey are not French!_"

"Really, America, must you annoy everyone with your obnoxious presence?"

"Really, guys? The Hero doesn't annoy people, I'm too awesome for that! And anyway, Mattie likes me."

"You leave Canada out of zis!"

"Yes, really, your brother has nothing to do with this!"

"Just like Canada wasn't involved in the War of 1812? Talk about stealing Mattie's thunder. Great example you set there."

"Listen, git, I was just helping him to-"

"To what? Be a prick like you? Or how 'bout a thorn in somebody's side? 'Cuz, I mean, we all know that you have expertise in _that_ area."

"You-!" It seemed that words had failed England, as he lunged at America, and the two began to tussle on the hallway floor.

France was cheering for England, encouraging the fight to continue. A few other nations were cheering as well, enjoying the fact that there was a real fight at a meeting for once.

Most of the nations were watching the fight with rapt attention, four or five were looking at those who were cheering, and two people were looking at Canada. These two people were Ukraine and Hungary. The women were curious to see how the boy would react to the noise and fighting in his new, younger form.

They watched as he saw with wide eyes, England jump at America, and they saw him give a shocked look at his father for egging them on. As France and the other nations got louder, they watched as Matthew curled into himself, nervous of what would happen. Then, when the flailing limbs and shouted curses got too close, the toddler was just plain afraid, fists clenched, eyes shut tight, and about to cry. When the first tear made its way down his cheek, the two went into action.

You know what they say about mama bears and their cubs? Yeah. That's exactly what happened.

"Alright, you two, alright! Zat is _enough_! Don't you see zat you're scaring Canada?!" Hungary stepped over to the two squabbling men and pulled them apart, lifting and holding them by their collars.

By this point, Ukraine had sped over to France and lifted the trembling, cloak-covered child from his unsuspecting arms. She began shushing him softly and rubbing his back to calm him down as a few more frightened tears made their way down his small face.

When the boy had calmed, sniffles subsiding, and Ukraine had wiped the tearstains from his face, he began to notice the nations staring at him and blushed at the attention. As he buried his face in Ukraine's shoulder, they heard a small 'sorry' come from the boy.

When Hungary lightly shook the two men and looked pointedly at Canada, America sighed and spoke up.

"No, Mattie, I should be apologizing. I'm the one who took it too far, and I'm sorry if I scared you."

England spoke not a second later. "I'm sorry too, Matthew. I should have tried to control my temper better."

Matthew quickly turned to his father and brother who both looked sincere. The boy looked down, confused and upset at his own reaction.

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have gotten so scared. I don't even know why that happened, you guys fight all of the time."

England smiled, happy to answer the question. "Don't worry about it, lad. Most likely, your three-year-old instincts, which would be easily threatened, hasn't quite caught up with you adult mind, which knows that it's normal. Just give it some time and it should even itself out."

Matthew looked up, happy to know that his reaction wasn't because of some sort of weakness. "Okay," he said, now much less embarrassed.

England nodded, and he and America visibly relaxed when Hungary went back to stand by Austria and Prussia. Then, he noticed Matthew stifling a yawn. "Matthew?"

The boy looked at him, eyes drooping slightly, trying to stay awake. "If you're tired, love, go to sleep. You're mind is probably exhausted from the spell, and I doubt that you're body is much better off."

The bot nodded, understanding (or pretending he did, no one knew). "O-okay, Dad," he said, yawning again.

He looked up at Ukraine in silent question, and the woman smiled and nodded in response. He thanked her quietly, and was soon asleep in the busty woman's arms.

All of the girls "Aww"ed, albeit quietly, as the sleeping boy lay in peaceful slumber.

"Vell," Prussia began loudly into the following silence. "Ve all know zat ze meeting won't go on after zis, so..." He looked around. "Anyvone up for a beer?"

Hungary smacked him with her frying pan.

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**Hey guys, what's up? Guess what? I'm gonna DIIIIIIIEEEE! Why is the crazy author going to die, you may ask? Well, I woke up this morning (at 3 AM) and I couldn't fall asleep, so I decided to watch Hetalia, a perfectly good idea, right? Well, apparently Netflix didn't, because I went to my queue, and it was GONE! Oh, woe is me! Don't worry, I can just drown my pain in My Little Pony and Doctor Who. I know. I have no life.  
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**But seriously guys, any feedback regarding how I'm portraying these guys would be helpful. Anyway, I'm sure some of you are just itching to flame me. FLAMES ARE WELCOME! They make me giggle. ;P  
**

**Translations  
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**Amérique - America (French)  
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**Angleterre - England (French)  
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**Papa - dad/daddy (French)  
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**Mon fils - my son (French)**

**Cher - dear (French)  
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**N-non, Papa! Ne pas me chercher! - N-no, Dad! Don't pick me up! (French)  
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**Mon petit - little one (French)  
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**Non, Papa - No, dad (French)**

**Oui, Amérique - Yes, America (French)**

**Dégoûtant - disgusting (French)**

**Wow. That's a lot of French. If any translations are wrong, blame GoogleTranslate, not me, but tell me so I can correct it. And there's more! Next chapter! YAY!  
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**BAI!**

**Reviewers get to help Hungary beat up Artie and Al for making Mattie cry.  
**

**~Mysti**


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